A few months ago we attempted this whole potty training thing (version1.0). Abby’s birthday is in June so she’s about two and a half years old. She shows the Signs of Readiness (and has for a while). We talked about it, we let her pick out her new potty, we set it up (down?) in the living room where she could potty and not have to miss whatever the rest of us were doing. I made sure she was wearing clothes we could get on and off quickly, and was proud when she decided she didn’t like to be wet or would yell “BEE!” and run to the potty. After a while she started yelling “Uh oh, poop!” and we’d run to the potty…but she didn’t really connect POO and POTTY. That was ok. I figured it would come in time.
He should know better by now.
Last night I told Matt about his favorite performer. She’s coming…not to our town (of course) but to our state (at least) so I wanted to get tickets. She’ll be here at the end of March and there are only like 6 seats left. (None of them together.) I wanted to get tickets before (if we were going) we’d have to sit across the auditorium from one another. I would be alone in a crowd of strangers in a strange place in the dark which means I’d be hiding in the bathroom the whole time and there’s really no need to buy a ticket for me to sit in the bathroom. If I act now we could sit close enough to one another to see and wave hi.
Him: What are they playing?
Me: I don’t know. It didn’t say.
My friend posted on Facebook: Wouldn’t it be funny if we ran out of oranges because we accidentally made them all seedless?
Me: Ditto with polar bears!
My friend: Ummmmm….
So I’m posting this to explain, even though it seems really obvious to me. The short version is: if everyone had oranges and ate them instead of fish the polar bears would have a larger supply of food and would not be struggling for survival. (If you believe the polar bear activists.)
Also? If the orange growers could find a way to harness the power of global warming and point it at the orange trees we would have wonderful big juicy oranges for all of the people to eat and the polar bears could lie around on ice floes and eat fish instead of having to move south to Canada because their homes fell into the ocean and floated to Indonesia.
So…more oranges = happier polar bears.
No oranges = skinny homeless polar bears living on the streets in Toronto.
Years ago, when the No Child Left Behind Act was an infant in diapers I wrote this:
Today I realized my concerns aren’t too far off the mark. I’m not really blogging because I’m suffering from some form of shock…or depression. Our children and our future are in big trouble.
[Note: I just wrote all this and then Words With Friends froze my computer and I lost my first post. So if this one sounds, well, snarkier than I intended — it’s meant to be snarky to begin with — please don’t come near me with any sharp objects.]
Tuesday: I called the landlord to let him know our thermostat was on the blink. When it’s set to “Heat” nothing happens. To get it to turn on we have to set it on “Off” and “Cool” either blows the A/C or heater, depending on what mood it’s in. Overnight we have to turn it on and sleep in a sauna or shut it off and pry icicles from our nose hairs when we wake up in the morning.
I started out the new year with high expectations and good intentions. I wanted to post here often and planned on every day Monday through Friday. Already I’m sidelined.
Sunday I got sick. I don’t know how or where. Sunday I was sick, but ambulatory. Sunday night I was up all night.
I’ll spare you the details.
Monday I was so drained I had to argue with myself to get myself to do anything. When I did move I was dizzy and weak.
This is where Matt says “How could you tell — you’re always dizzy.” Ha freaking ha. Continue reading
We need a new couch.
This is stage one of having your own house, being your own person, regaining you sense of individuality. We began here too. We were homeless long enough to want our own stuff but had few resources and high hopes at that time.
Ah, we have furniture!
Having just enough money for rent meant we couldn’t buy furniture. Even the cheap stuff. We happily accepted a donation from a friend as that meant it actually looked like we lived here (FURNITURE!) and we no longer had to sit on the floor in a cold draft to eat dinner or talk.
Couch? Yeah, it’s great.
Like everything else, the novelty wore off. We had a home, we had furniture, we were getting to the point where we began to get other things for ourselves and it was head down, work hard, full speed ahead.
What happened to the couch?
The head down stage wore off when we reached the point where we didn’t have to worry about the next incoming bill before we spent every cent, possibly postponing the purchase of laundry detergent or some other trivial thing just because there wasn’t enough to go around. This is when Matt came home from work and noticed right away that THE TODDLER had been up to (or into) something.
*heavy sigh* following by stomping past the couch with his head down.
This is the stage we are in now. The resignation that with a small person in the house our furniture, walls and carpeting are all subject to some preschool artistic interpretative performances. We now try to blindly sit on our couch that is scribbled on in black ink, bright pink lipstick and some form of cookie stains.
It’s a good thing we didn’t buy a new couch.
Okay, so after weeks of thinking of witty and clever things to say, I finally sat down to write. Despite the Princess, rebel bacon and a wayward repairman I managed to forge together something funny, poignant and very touching and memorable.
Then I went to check on lunch that was cooking in the kitchen.
When I came back Abigail had erased it and replaced it with something like:
Even though you can’t see me I will be here on the other side of the blog attempting to write again.
But Abby just asked for her cosmetic bag.
Tomorrow’s post will probably include pictures of her redecorating skills all over our furniture, walls, and faces.